


Due Diligence

by WhitethornWolf



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/WhitethornWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persistence, passion, and due diligence will all pay off some day. Sith Warrior Origin story. No spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Due Diligence

_Breathe in._  
_Breathe out._  
The pain clamped around her side, pulling and twisting, the skin on her back splitting when she curled into herself. Belona pushed her fists into her stomach and seized the cry rising in her chest and pressed it into her gut; crushed it to nothing because to give into pain was weakness, and she was not weak.

  
The stink of kolto was all over her, and her skin felt sticky. She tested her fingers one by one, her joints popping when she flexed them. Her arms were sore but not seriously injured, her face was bruised but not too battered. Her legs protested when she swung them over the side of her cot, but even that was nothing compared to the fire sweeping over her back. She could feel the burned flesh cracking and weeping fluid through the swathe of bandages, and she knew she would have permanent scars. She paid no attention to the pain, though perspiration ran down her forehead and into her eyes.

“I see you survive.”

Her combat trainer’s voice was almost as familiar as her own; she knew he was watching just outside her peripheral vision and she could feel the smugness rolling off him in waves.  
She didn’t know his name. She didn’t know any of their names; the Sith Masters who had taken her from her scrap heap of a planet, who had raised her to know hate.  
_I hate him,_ Belona thought. _I hate all of them._

“Did I please you, Master?”

He moved further into the room, and in the light she noticed the streak of melted armour across his chest, and the scorch marks on his greaves.  
She dared not smile.  
“You have done well,” he said eventually. “Very well. I am pleased.”

So the gruff old gundark has a shred of praise in him after all, she thought. “I can do better, Master.”

“Indeed.”

Silently she waited for the criticism she knew was forthcoming.

“But I have no more left to teach you. When your injuries are healed, you will pack your things.”

Her expression almost faltered. “Master?”

“You will report to the docking bay at first light,” he said, “and you will go to Korriban.”

Impatiently, she shoved away her fear and stood up. Half-naked, covered in bandages, she bowed stiffly.  
“As you wish.”  
Her hate was a block of ice on her chest; dull and cold and deceptively quiet; tempered by triumph and trepidation.  
_So this is what victory feels like_ , she thought, and finally let the smile touch her lips.


End file.
